


Live couch show

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, IDk is a weird oneshot, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Wet Dream, goes from sad to cute, or sth, some curse words I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Brian's really fucking lonely in his apartment couch. Roger comes to check on him. It gets better.Just two boys and a couch, depressed Brian, supportive Roger. A dash of Maylor mutual pining.Set in late 1974.





	Live couch show

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the Pulp song "Live bed show"

 

Brian was thrown on the couch of his small apartment, with his head buried on the back pillows, hoping he could stop existing. He didn't want to cry but his head hurt from holding it in too much. He felt so poorly, alone, ugly, and as if he would write a decent song or solo again. Talentless. Dull. Useless. Alone.

 

This was his fault, he knew (wasn't everything?). He'd distanced himself from everyone, blew them off when they asked him to go with them. But how could he face them and their talent and their joy and everything that they were, when he was just... A failure. A failure of a scientist, a failure of a songwriter and a failure of musician too. Sure, he'd written a couple of good things, but now he felt he couldn't live up to that.

 

Brian hated himself. If he did something bad he was afraid that he was disappointing his bandmates but being so mediocre, but if he did something good he was afraid that he would give them some expectations that he would never live up to. Nothing of what he ever did would make him happy, and it was on him to be so miserable always.

 

From the outside it could as if he had a great life. Rock and roll guitarist! Getting all sorts of attention and love! Doing what he loves! Visiting the most amazing places! But Brian didn't feel like he had a great life.

 

What did he have? He had no health, he'd been in and out of hospitals nearly the whole year, weak and tired and almost died a couple of times.

 

Money? He'd cost the band a lot of money because of everything that they had to cancel when he was sick. They were all poorer because of him, and apart of having less money the others also probably resented him.

 

Talent? He hadn't written anything good in ages. If the others said it was good it was just to make him happy, to try and avoid him collapsing again. He had no real talent, not like the others did.

 

Love? The man he loved was an impossible and would never love him back in that way. Sure, it was great having him as a friend, and he really loved that they spent so much time together, even when they were fighting... But still, seeing Roger spend the night with all those people was like needles in his heart. And he was tired.

 

So no, his life was not as wonderful as it may look on the outside. He had some nice friends, and.... (his father hated him for choosing the band over science) (he would never have the creative power of the other, he wouldn't ever really recover, wouldn't catch up) (at some point Roger would get married and he would have to be there, smiling as his heart was eaten by darkness)

 

He couldn't face the world. Told the guys he was sick (not technically a lie) and not to worry. He was a mess and every time he saw his reflection he was startled by how bad he looked. No wonder nobody loved him. He was ugly and pale and just an awful human being to look at, to listen to.

 

Why did he always answer the questions they were asked? He knew nothing. He was nothing.

 

He just stayed there, face down on the couch, without even the strength to cry. Just letting the time pass as he wallowed in his misery... And suddenly there was a noise.

“Brian? It's me, I'm coming in.”

 

Shit, he'd given Roger a key for some reason and never asked for it back!!! And now he was in his boxers and oldest dirtiest t-shirt with his hair all mussed up and all the tear track and dried spit... Roger couldn't see him like this!!! He sat up, but there was no time for him to get some pants or anything. Roger would see the mess.

 

“Hey mate, what are you up to?”

 

Roger said, with a smile. He had an inkling that telling Brian he looked like crap wouldn't help matters.

 

“Roger, I... I...”

 

He had no words. That was okay, because Roger did.

 

“You ok, Bri? We haven't seen you for a few days.”

 

Brian looked at the drummer, but all the words that he wanted to say died in his throat. He wanted to scream that no, he wasn't okay, wanted to curse himself for having to put up with himself and with the knowledge that no matter how close they were.... Roger would always find something better, someone better. He deserved someone better.

 

“I'm going to clean up a bit.”

 

Brian washed his face, fished out some presentable sweatpants, thought of ways so that Roger would leave without being too worried. He couldn't witness this traiwreck, couldn't wouldn't. The whole getting up and cleaning himself business was more harrowing than expected and he ended up getting a bit dizzy. He realised he didn't remember when was the last time he ate.

 

But was not important, the important thing was that Roger didn't see....

 

“You look better.”

 

Not by much, though. Roger had just come to check on the guy and because he had no one else available to go out, but now was worried. Brian looked as if he'd lost his entire will to live and it was very concerning. Sure, they were friends and parts of the same band and... But Brian was more than that, he'd always been. And now he was clearly not fine, and Roger needed to do something.

 

“Why are you here, Roger? It's Saturday. You should be out.”

  
“Why aren't you out?”

 

“Not feeling good.”

 

“Well, maybe I wanted to go out with you and that's why I came. And since you can't...”

 

“No, Roger, don't pass up on a fun night for me. Just go out, enjoy yourself.”

 

“I'd rather enjoy you.” And a wink. One of these things would help get Brian better.

 

That was the plan. Roger only went out to get some food and made it his mission to make Brian smile again. It wasn't going to be easy, and it may take many days but he was going to help his friend open up about whatever was bugging and reassure him in every way possible. Try and lessen the load.

 

They had dinner, and talked about all the road they had now, the touring, more albums, more fans and concerts, and how to balance that, how to balance each other. Brian ended up opening about how bad he felt for the missed concerts, how convinced he'd been that they would replace him, then or the next time he got sick.

 

Roger took his arm and looked him straight in the eye, with those blue pools of his.

 

“Brian. Never. Get it out of your head, all right? It's not going to happen.”

 

The guitarist did feel a bit better. His head didn't hurt so badly.

 

Encouraged by this, Brian told Roger about how tired he felt and how he feared he would never be really recovered again, about how much I burdened him that his father didn't approve of the band, about how dissatisfied he was with his own music lately. Roger listened and reassured him.

 

But there was something else.

 

Something he couldn't say. Something he wouldn't say. Something that would ruin their friendship. And so he kept quiet and just offered a to listen to Roger's problems now, with some beers. Roger told him about his issues with sudden fame and all those fans, the fear that someone would go too far, the want to still have a life, and his struggle to be taken seriously beyond his looks.

 

And then he fell asleep against Brian's shoulder and there was a moment of... Closeness. And Brian sighed and told himself that maybe this was enough. Having someone that would come to heck on you, buy you some food, get you out of your head. Roger was a good friend, and maybe that was enough. Maybe he could get used to this idea, maybe he would come to being happy for Roger when he eventually found someone. Yes, maybe they would never be what he wanted them to be, but....

 

It was hard not to want more when Roger was close, and so beautiful, and they'd done so much music together, and still kept on, bands had changed, people had changed, but they'd continued. And now Roger was smiling in his sleep and it was the cutest thing ever. Suddenly the thoughts from earlier in the day about how his life was terrible made no sense. He may not have health or money or love, but he had Roger, and that more than compensated.

 

Brian smiled.

 

*

 

Roger's smile in his sleep became a moan. Brian arched his eyebrow. Roger seemed to be enjoying himself a lot, while in the dream. Like way too much. Deeply enjoying all of himself. This was odd, so odd, but Brian didn't want to wake the blonde. He was allowed to enjoy his dream.

But Roger seemed to be having a fairly wet dream and Brian felt this was private, that maybe he was overstepping. He probably shouldn't be looking, but he was looking. Poor Roger had probably been up for very long and if he moved that would wake him up, so Brian stayed where he was and looked. He was looking a lot. Roger was making all sorts of nice noises and Brian....

Well, he was scientist, ok? Curiosity was one of their main traits. He was curious as to what was going on behind those closed lids. He wondered who was there with dream Roger, who was bringing all that pleasure. 

 

“Brian....”

 

Brian's eyes widened to unprecedented proportions. He'd imagined that, right? Brian must have imagined that because there was no way that Roger was having _that_ kind of dream about him. That he would make those noises, smile and squirm and moan like that..... For him. No. He'd imagined it, and that was that. But Roger was breathing rhythmically and there was his name on his lips again and....

 

“Bri....”

 

Surely there was another Brian Roger was thinking about, Roger was dreaming about. There was no way that Roger would be feeling like that after seeing how awful Brian looked. No way in hell. But still, he could imagine it was about him, couldn't he? Fantasies didn't hurt anyone.

 

After a while Roger calmed down, no more noises coming out of him and he opened his eyes lazily to find that Brian was there, which was great, because damn had that been a good couch shag. But.... one moment. He had all his clothes on. When had he put his clothes on?

 

“Why are you dressed?” He said, still half asleep.

 

Brian's eyebrows shot to the sky. So in his dream he, this very same Brian, had been naked. Oh. 

 

Shit. It had been a dream. Shit, Roger. Shit.

 

Brian was speechless for a moment. Roger was suddenly wide awake. What to do with this situation, what to do??!?

 

“Sorry, I just....”

 

Brian tested a hunch.

 

“You were saying my name. In your dream.”

 

Roger turned red, tried to control the heat on his face, between his legs. Shit, he'd been on Brian's shoulder and smelling him, and his subconscious had filled the rest. That had been a dream and not something that had happened, and Brian had watched him...Have a dream about... that. And heard his name. 

 

 _How are you going to get out of this one, Roger Taylor?_   Just friends having wet dreams about other friends. Perfectly normal. He decided to go with the truth, and look Brian in the eye as he said:

 

“I honestly have no explanation, Bri. I had a dream that we fucked, I hope it doesn't gross you out.”

 

Brian wasn't grossed out. At all. He was oddly hopeful, looking at Roger's sleepy eyes.

 

“You... was it only the dream or...?”

 

Roger smiled one of the slightly evil smiles he favoured. He really had enjoyed the sight of Brian in his boxers, and truth was, he'd always been a bit in love with his friend, despite his many sexual partners. He was curious about Brian, and he was a bit turned on and he really wanted to try. In real life and not just in fantasy.

 

“Oh, I'd love to make my my dreams come true, if you catch my drift.”

 

Brian smiled. Suddenly, his shitty day had become ten times better.

 

“But why don't we start with a kiss and figure out the details later?”

 

It was a messy, sleepy kiss but it was Roger's and Brian felt that he'd never been happier to exist.

 

He'd gone from the sorriest sight in the world, to just a guy having beers with a friend, to the happiest sleepy kissy person ever.

 

And all had happened in that couch.

 

(He was keeping it forever)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope that somebody out there enjoyed this mess. 
> 
> You know you want to comment!


End file.
